Asking for Trouble
by Clez
Summary: Albert has a rough day. But what else is new?


**NOTE:** This fic was written for DieAstra for her birthday, as a special request! It's rather (_very_) late, and therefore a belated gift, but I hope she enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

Anna Stark was a gorgeous woman. Very probably the most gorgeous woman in the world.

Or maybe Albert was just biased.

Catching him looking at her Anna met his eye and gave him a smile. His stomach instantly performed an almost dizzying somersault.

Oh yeah. Definitely biased.

But with her flowing blonde hair with its easy waves, strong but smooth features, and keenly intelligent green eyes, there was no denying that his wife was a head-turner, to say the least. That was to say nothing of her height and build, and her—

Albert cleared his throat and turned his eyes forward again. The last thing he needed was to get so distracted that he fell out of the saddle. He had an easy enough time doing that all on his own.

But just how he had managed to not only catch but _keep_ the attention, as well as the affections, of a woman like Anna was still completely and utterly beyond him.

In clearing his throat he had attracted Anna's attention. "Everything okay?" she asked him, and there was the faintest hint of a smile in her voice that told Albert she already knew the answer. She was incredibly perceptive on top of everything else.

"Yeah." He gave her a smile back, nodding his head and adjusting himself in the saddle slightly. Not much, just enough to be a little more comfortable. "Yeah, everything's—" And then he stopped, twisting in his saddle to look first to one side and then the other. Anna was quiet beside him atop her own horse, waiting for him to go on. "Dammit."

"What's the matter?"

"I forgot the food." Feeling decidedly foolish he lifted his head and frowned at her. "I packed this whole lunch for us, and I left it back at the ranch—"

"Albert, it's okay."

"—and I'll have to go back and get it—"

"Albert."

"—because we won't have anything to eat, and—"

"_Albert_."

He stopped at last, closing his mouth, looking across at Anna and blinking at her. Had he been rambling?

With a soft laugh she shook her head, meeting his gaze with a mixture of affection and amusement.

Definitely rambling then.

"I can go back for the food," she said to him then, already shifting her grip on her reins in order to redirect her horse.

"Oh." Albert shook his head. "Oh, hey, no, I'm the idiot who forgot it, I should—"

"Albert." That was all it took to get him to stop talking. Unlike most people, Anna didn't go out of her way to make Albert feel bad about his shortcomings. Yes, she pointed them out but never in a cruel or mocking way, as so many people had over the course of his life. "I can get there and back a lot faster than you." With just the slightest tug on the reins she got her horse pacing backwards until they were level once again. Anna didn't even so much as waver in the saddle, only one hand on the reins with the other resting on the pommel in front of her, as casual as you please. She was much better than him in the saddle.

In more ways than one.

Albert gave his head a small shake to clear it and then nodded. "Okay, yeah, you're right."

Anna smiled at him, nodding her head as well. "Okay," she agreed. Reaching up with one hand she deftly knocked her own hat back far enough that it fell to rest between her shoulder blades and then leaned over in her saddle far enough that she could catch him in a kiss. She lingered, obviously enjoying the moment just as much as Albert was, and when she pulled back the smile on her face was warm and content. "I'll see you soon, Sheepboy." And then, with little more than a flick of her heels, she was off.

Albert twisted carefully in his seat to watch her go. There had been a time when he had half-heartedly protested that name of hers for him but that time had well and truly passed. It wasn't just because Anna obviously meant it fondly, or that she seemed to sincerely enjoy using it, but if he was completely honest with himself Albert actually liked it too. Now that he thought about it there wasn't a single thing about his wife or the things she did that he _didn't_ like.

He hadn't realised just how long he had been sitting there, watching Anna grow smaller and smaller as she got further and further away, until his horse jostled lightly back and forth and whickered quietly. Albert turned forward again, using one hand to ruffle his mount's mane. "Okay, Curtis. C'mon, bud." The horse responded with a bob of his head and then started to move on at a steady pace.

It wasn't far to their destination and the journey would be quicker if he picked up the pace, but Albert was in no rush to get there without Anna. It would only mean sitting around waiting by himself and that thought didn't particularly appeal to him.

At least once a week he and Anna headed out into the open desert to keep up his shooting practise, and if he was honest with himself Albert was finding that the more he kept up with it the more he found he genuinely enjoyed it. He was improving as well, bit by bit, and his confidence was continuing to grow as well. Anna wanted him to be able to defend himself properly, he knew, but on top of that it was one of their little rituals that allowed them to just _be_ with one another. It was their time, and that made it special.

Sure, they could have practised at the ranch with it being just the two of them now, but Albert liked coming out here where no one else could find them. Their space, their time, just the two of them and the vast wilderness all around. They could joke and laugh and continue to learn little things about one another and then at the end of it all they could snuggle up together and watch the sunset.

These trips were probably Albert's favourite times.

So he was definitely in no rush to get there without Anna.

If he had been travelling faster he might have missed the sound that echoed his way from somewhere off to the east. At first he wasn't sure what it had been but as he turned his head to follow that echo it sounded again and now that he was listening for it he realised he recognised it.

Gunfire.

Slowing Curtis practically to a stop Albert turned in his seat to look back the way he had come but there was no sign of Anna, or anyone else either. For a few moments he sat there, hands on the pommel, agonising over what to do. It would be a lot smarter to just move along on his way and pretend he hadn't heard anything but the longer he mulled it over the more he worried about Anna running into some kind of trouble on her way to meet up with him. What if whoever had been firing those guns came this way and crossed her path? His wife could handle herself but what if they ambushed her?

Would it really be so bad to take a look and find out what was going on? That way he could circle back and he and Anna could head back to the ranch, or maybe ride into town to alert the authorities to whatever had happened. Or maybe whoever it was would move along before then and they could just go about the rest of their day.

Either way it really didn't seem like such an _awful_ idea to check it out.

So it was that he turned Curtis and got him moving in the right direction. Or maybe it was the wrong direction, all things considered. Albert was very much hoping for the former. He was as quiet as he could be as he approached a ridge that overlooked a low pass and he slowed Curtis' pace until he could just see over that ridge from his place in the saddle without getting so close that he would be obviously visible to anyone down below. Very carefully he sat up straight in the saddle to get the best view possible without having to move any closer, craning his neck a little to see better.

What he saw was almost enough to make him wish he hadn't come at all.

There at the bottom of the pass was a stagecoach, no longer moving with its horses shuffling restlessly in their harnesses. The doors to the coach were open to show that there was no one inside, and the driver's seat at the front of the coach was empty as well. It didn't take long for Albert to realise why.

Down on the ground, not moving in the least, were two men. One lay face up, staring at the sky, while the other was face down in the dirt. Both men had sizeable bloodstains at their chest or back.

Albert's throat went dry. There was no way either man was still breathing.

There were other men moving around down there but he quickly ascertained from their style of dress and the purposefulness of their movements that they had nothing to do with the stage. They were the ones who had stopped it, obviously with the intention of robbing it. It wasn't clear from his vantage point what exactly the stage held that the men were so interested in, and the coach was at an awkward angle so he couldn't see any lettering along its sides.

But Albert had seen enough. It was time to go. He had to get back to the ranch and stop Anna from coming to meet him and then he had to get into town. Maybe if he was really quick he could alert the authorities in time to stop those men, whoever they were.

As quickly and quietly as he could he pulled on the reins to get Curtis to back up and turn with the intention of racing off at top speed.

He was stopped short by the sight of not just one but several men on horseback waiting behind him. The sight, unexpected as it was, was enough to startle him and he had to grip the reins and the saddle itself to keep his seat, uttering a sharp curse in his surprise. Where the hell had they come from, and how had they gotten behind him without him hearing them? Albert cursed himself silently then for being so engrossed in the sight down below that he hadn't noticed their approach.

"Lookie here, boys," one of the men said, chewing on something Albert assumed to be tobacco. "We got ourselves an audience." A couple of the others muttered among themselves or chuckled in a manner that was decidedly not kind or innocent.

"I-I, uh—I was just going," Albert said, not without stumbling and stuttering, and he shook his head with what he hoped was an innocent shrug. "I didn't see anything."

It didn't have the effect he was, somewhat naively, hoping for. The men obviously weren't convinced or placated in the slightest. The one who had spoken before shook his own head, moving his horse a little bit closer as he said, "I don't think so."

And then he lashed out with a kick. Albert hadn't even noticed the man clearing his boot of his stirrup before that same boot was hitting him in the side with enough force to slam him all the way out of his own saddle. When he hit the ground, luckily avoiding smacking his head as he did so, he landed with enough momentum that he rolled over backwards.

The ground disappeared from under him. He didn't even have time to yell.

He went right over the edge of the small ridge and fell all the way down to the slope beneath, hitting hard and knocking the wind out of himself. It hurt. A _lot_. With nothing to stop him he tumbled all the way down until there was no more slope, landing on the dirt at the bottom, winded and dazed. When he had enough air back in his lungs he was able to groan and cough, opening his eyes and lifting his head to look back up the way he had come.

Curtis was close to the edge, tossing his head wildly in such a manner that it continually sent his loose reins whipping out of the reach of the men trying to snatch at them. _Good boy_. But the thought, and the relief behind it, was short lived when Albert saw the stones raining from the lip of the ridge and skittering down the slope he had just tumbled down. As he watched even more were sent hurtling over and he felt the bottom of his stomach threatening to drop out. Curtis wasn't just close to the edge, but _right_ _on it_. A matter of an inch or two and he would lose his balance and that would be the end of it. If he didn't just outright break his neck in the fall then he would shatter at least one leg and Albert knew what would have to happen then.

"Curtis!" The horse tossed his head again. "Curtis, go!" Albert pushed himself up from the ground and raised his voice, shouting again with more force and urgency. "_Go_!"

That had the desired effect. Dropping his head and barrelling forward with a sudden burst of speed and power, Curtis charged like a bull right at the other horses blocking his path. Instinctively they darted and sprang out of his path, opening enough of a gap for him to thunder right on through and to the freedom on the other side. The men yelled and made desperate grabs but it was no use. They came up empty-handed, and for whatever reason chose not to pursue the fleeing animal.

Albert let out a rush of a breath of relief, even as his only means of escape went galloping away to God only knew where.

He looked around then, taking his eyes from the four men above and seeing another three on the same level as him. What relief he had been feeling only moments before vanished in an instant.

"Ohhh—" Albert's throat felt dry as he took another look around, "—shit."

Before he could think of what to do next the distinctive sound of a gun's hammer cocking back rooted him to the spot. Instinctively he raised his hands, turning his head until he could see the man holding the weapon. It was pointed right at him, not surprisingly, and the man continued to approach until he was close enough to slide Albert's own pistol out of its holster at his hip.

From behind he heard sounds of hooves moving over rough terrain and with a glance he confirmed that the riders from above were making their way down into the pass as well. Half of them dismounted their horses and moved closer, the others staying in their saddles, all of them forming a rough circle around Albert as he stood very much outnumbered and regretful of his extremely stupid decision to stick his nose where it _really_ didn't belong.

"What you snoopin' around for, boy?" the tobacco-chewing man said. Albert decided then that he was the ringleader, and mentally labelled him as such. "This ain't no business of yours."

Albert didn't know what to say to that. For a few seconds he tried to form words but nothing came out of his mouth even when he did open it to speak.

And the next thing he knew he was on the floor. A burst of white was clearing from his field of vision and his left ear was ringing horribly. There was a distinct throbbing through his jaw on that side. "_Ow_." It slipped out before he could help himself. Touching his right hand to the aching side of his face he looked up at the man who had landed the blow, saying as he did so, "That was so unnecessary."

That obviously wasn't what the Ringleader wanted to hear. Reaching down with one hand he roughly took a hold on Albert's shirt and vest and yanked him right back to his feet. It happened so quickly that Albert actually felt dizzy.

The next blow caught him in the stomach and doubled him over. It also knocked the wind right out of him again and he could only cough raggedly as the Ringleader kept a rough hold on his shirt's collar at the back to keep him from buckling to the ground.

"You're gonna wanna answer the question, boy," the man grumbled at him impatiently.

Albert wanted to point out that it was all but impossible to do that when the other man kept hitting him but he had the presence of mind to tell himself that that would just get him hit again. So he lifted a hand, palm open, in as much of a _give me a second_ gesture as he was able while he was still fighting to get his breath back enough to speak. Thankfully, it had the desired effect, and he was able to get enough air into his starving lungs to say, "I didn't see anything."

"No?" The Ringleader tugged on his collar to get him to straighten up enough so that he could meet his gaze when he asked, sceptically, "So you didn't see the stage or the dead men or none of that?"

Albert hesitated. It was a trick question, he knew. Rhetorical, even. But if he didn't answer then the man would hit him again. "No?"

It was another punch to the face that time and he was allowed to hit the dirt once again, seeing stars and wondering blearily if it was possible for a man's brain to actually rattle around inside his skull. It certainly felt like that was what had happened.

"You wanna try that again, boy?" It was practically a growl and Albert realised the man was standing directly over him, casting a rather imposing shadow. "I ain't got all day."

He almost, _almost_, said something about having a stagecoach to rob but he managed to bite his tongue at the last second and keep the sarcastic remark inside where it wouldn't get him in even more trouble. "Okay," he said, opening both hands in a surrendering motion. "Okay," he said again, looking up at the man. "I _did_ see all of that, but—" The Ringleader's face had tightened angrily. "_But_—" he interjected before he could get a boot in the gut or the face, "—I wasn't going to say anything. I was just going to go home." And then into town. But they didn't need to know that.

"You wasn't gonna say nothin'?"

The double negative just about made Albert's eye twitch but he bit his tongue again. "No," he said instead. "I swear."

A low grunt of a sound was the Ringleader's initial response before he went on to say, "You're damn right you weren't."

And then he drew his pistol from its holster, cocking it and aiming it down at Albert where he lay sprawled on the ground.

Oh, Jesus. Oh, _Christ_. Albert wanted to turn back time and stop himself from following the sound. It had been stupid. _So_ stupid. So massively, colossally, monumentally stupid. He wanted to take it all back. But he couldn't. He knew that he couldn't. It was far too late for that.

_I'm sorry, Anna_.

* * *

As she stepped out of the house with her prize in her hands, the sound of grazing sheep lazily bleating coming from all around, Plugger was hot on her heels with his tongue lolling and not a care in the world. Anna set the food down and fussed the dog behind his ears with both hands, unable to deny him the attention he so keenly desired. "Who's a good boy, huh?" She continued to fuss. "There's a good boy, Plugger."

It was as she was straightening again to fix the food to her saddle that she heard it, a sound so out of place with her peaceful surroundings that it made her stop instantly. It set her on edge and had her scanning the horizon for the source of the sound. Thundering hoof beats. She set the food down again and moved around her horse to get a better look at the land beyond the grazing herd and saw it instantly.

Curtis.

But no Albert.

"Curtis!" She shouted the horse's name but it wasn't needed to have the animal thundering towards her at near-breakneck speed. At the last moment the horse pulled up, all but skidding in the dirt with his reins flying and his head tossing wildly. "Whoa, _whoa_, boy! Easy, _easy_." She managed to snatch one of his loose reins and ease his head down so she could touch her hand to his face to soothe him properly. "Easy, boy. Easy." While she spoke softly and calmly she was anything but calm inside as she quickly scanned the saddle for any clues that might help her figure out what had happened to Albert. "Where is he, boy? Huh? Where's Albert?"

Most people would think it was ridiculous to ask the horse because there was obviously no way an animal could answer such a question but Anna knew better. Anna knew that Albert bonded with animals just as easily as he did people, if not more so, and completely at that. She had seen with her own eyes how he could call the name of one sheep and have that exact animal respond by obediently trotting over to him. Curtis was no different. He was as loyal as any dog, and much smarter than most would give him credit for to boot.

"Is he in trouble?" Anna already knew the answer to that. Curtis was so agitated that there was no other explanation. "Where is he, boy?" She was already moving to her own horse but not before she secured Curtis' reins enough that there was no longer any possibility of him stepping on them and tripping himself. "Take me to him. Go on." When she was firmly settled in her saddle she said again, "Go on, boy!" And Curtis was off, swinging his weight around and bolting off, back the way he had come. "C'mon, Plugger!" Anna called as she set off as well, hearing the dog bark in response as he sprinted eagerly after her.

* * *

"On your feet, boy."

Albert almost laughed. Did it really matter if he was on his feet or on his back when the other man shot him? It was still murder. He would still be dead at the end of it. Who would care?

"I said on your _feet_!" The gun went off but the bullet didn't hit Albert. Instead it smacked into the dirt a few inches from his head and startled him into first shuffling away from the impact and then, albeit not without difficulty, up to his feet. His legs felt a little weak, like his knees were going to give out on him at any moment.

"Can't shoot you when you're flat on your back," the Ringleader said to him. "Ain't no honour in that."

Honour? Again, Albert almost laughed. It was a miracle he kept it back, along with any other retort that popped into his head, and there were several of them. Where was the honour in shooting an unarmed man? Or shooting _any_ man, for that matter? But something told him that if he asked any of those very valid questions out loud then the Ringleader wouldn't hesitate to shoot him, especially now that he was back on his feet.

There was no point in keeping his hands up anymore, so he hadn't bothered to raise them after getting up off the ground. It wouldn't stop the other man from pulling the trigger, or so it seemed. Albert wasn't sure there was any benefit in keeping them _down_ either but he felt at least a little better about having them that way. It wasn't much, but it was something.

And maybe, just maybe, he could try to talk some sense into these guys. It probably wouldn't pay off as well as it had with Cochise's tribe but wasn't it worth a shot?

"Listen—"

"Shut up."

Albert clamped his mouth shut. So much for that idea.

The Ringleader raised the gun, thumbing back the hammer again. Albert actually saw the chamber rotate. His mouth went dry and he swallowed. It didn't do much. The sight of that gun aimed squarely at his chest was doing a fantastic job of making his tongue feel like sandpaper, a horrible sensation that was starting to spread down his throat as well, the longer he looked at that pistol pointed his way.

So he decided to close his eyes.

When the gunshot sounded Albert tensed, flinching, but he wasn't slammed off his feet by the bullet the way he had thought he would be. There was no pain either. The strangeness of that was enough to have him opening first one eye and then the other.

The Ringleader was no longer looking at him, instead he was half-twisted to look back towards the ridge.

Albert followed his gaze and just about burst out laughing. Or maybe he would have burst into tears. He honestly wasn't sure which was more likely.

There, at the edge of the ridge, stood Anna, her rifle in her hands and aimed levelly down at the men in the pass. Behind her was not only her own horse, but Curtis as well. Albert almost had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from cheering. _Good boy_, he thought again, making a note to reward the horse somehow. That would have to wait until later though, when his life wasn't still very much in danger, because even though his wife was now on the scene and she was a heck of a force to be reckoned with, she was still extremely outnumbered.

Six to one now though, he noticed. One of the men who had remained in his saddle was now lying motionless on the ground. That must have been the shot he'd heard.

"Well, well, _well_," the Ringleader said, drawling the words out in what sounded suspiciously like awe. "If it ain't _Anna Leatherwood_."

"Actually," Anna replied from her place overlooking the scene, "it _ain't_."

It was so unusual to hear her use that kind of lazy language that Albert couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, that's right," the Ringleader said, and then he seemed to pause before his head turned back, his eyes once again settling squarely on Albert. It was kind of unnerving. "Wait just a minute here," the man went on and looked back up to Anna. "You ain't telling me that _this_—" with the gun he gestured, as well as jerking his head almost aggressively, in Albert's direction, "—is the guy who killed Clinch Leatherwood?"

Anna said nothing but instead simply smiled. To Albert that smile looked not only triumphant but genuinely proud. It made him feel a whole lot better.

The men started to chatter amongst themselves, casting incredulous and disbelieving gazes back and forth and at Albert. A couple of them actually started to chuckle. The Ringleader _laughed_.

Albert couldn't help but feel indignant, frowning as he fixed the gruff man with a displeased stare. "_Hey_."

"Put the gun down, Buford," Anna called from her place on the ridge, priming the rifle and settling the stock solidly in her shoulder, aiming down the barrel. "This is your last chance."

Albert lowered his gaze from his wife to the man she had identified as Buford in time to see the man's shoulders lift and drop in a shrug. "Okay," he called, and Albert thought that would be the end of it. But then, without even turning back from regarding Anna up on her perch, the man pulled the trigger.

The shot slammed Albert off his feet and down into the dirt, and just before the pain took hold and drowned out everything else he heard Anna's voice raised in anger, denial, and fear.

* * *

"_ALBERT_!" His name tore its way out of her throat as soon as she heard the gun go off and saw him knocked clean off his feet by the shot. But there was no time to try and see where he had been hit, or how badly he was hurt. The men was scrambling into action and she had next to no time to make her own move.

Buford was already moving for cover, the filthy bastard, and one of his men was already taking aim at her, leaving her no choice but to take him down first. She hit him square in the chest and downed him instantly, readying the rifle again and taking down a third before one of Buford's men could get off a single shot at her in return. With nowhere else to go Anna had no choice but to drop down into the dirt herself, using the ridge itself as cover. The horses, spooked by the gunfire, had moved clear of the danger. That was one less thing to worry about, at least.

With the rifle readied again she positioned herself as best as she could to aim over the ridge, taking out a fourth member of Buford's party before he even knew he was in trouble. She heard Buford himself toss out a curse of frustration from where he had taken cover behind the stage and the sound of his voice was enough to set her blood boiling. If it was the last thing she did today she would put a bullet in that man. If Albert—

_No. Not now, Anna. No time._

She had to concentrate. Focus. Stay on task.

They still outnumbered her three to one, after all.

* * *

It hurt more than anything Albert had ever felt in his life. For what felt like an eternity he lay on his back struggling to breathe through that pain and get his brain to work again. With a gasped groan he managed, at long last, to lift his head enough to look down at his chest. But the blood wasn't where he had thought it would be. Huh. Odd.

Oh wait, there it was. Off to one side and spreading down—_down_? Albert turned his head and saw why. The bullet had hit him in the shoulder. That should have been good news, he thought, but it didn't make it hurt any less and there was still the very real danger of bleeding to death if he didn't get some kind of help.

Somewhere very close by a gun went off and snapped his mind out of its habitual _what if_ state of rattling off all the ways he could die from an injury like the one he had sustained. Anna was still out there. What else would the men be firing at?

Okay, that was good. That was something to hold on to. If Albert could use that to keep himself steady then maybe he could make it out of this in one piece. _Both_ of them could. One of the many things Anna had taught him was to not always focus on the negatives, so he had to take a tight hold on the potential positives instead. Have a little faith.

When he had been knocked down by the bullet he had landed closer to the coach, giving him at least some level of cover. That was good. When he turned his head the other way he could see legs on the opposite side of the coach. Two pairs of them. Albert wasn't sure who they were but as he watched one of them started to circle around and come up on his side of the coach. They didn't seem to take any notice of him, obviously writing him off now that he'd been shot. Albert allowed himself only a moment to be equal parts annoyed and relieved and then he took action.

The man had just stepped past him with one foot when Albert lunged with his good arm and took as tight a hold of the closest ankle as was possible. It was enough to trip the man, unsteadying him to the point that he fell forward and face down in the dirt. There was a heavy thump when he landed, and a dull smack, and as Albert waited for the man to start moving again he realised what the latter must have been. If the blood he could see slowly creeping out from under the robber's head was any indication, there must have been a rock right there where he'd fallen.

Huh. Death by tripping. Albert would have to remember to add that one to the list.

And there, sticking out of the back of the dead man's belt, was Albert's very own gun. He could hardly believe his eyes.

* * *

Anna had lost track of the remaining men, what few of them there were, trying to count them off in her head as she laid eyes on them when she saw one emerging from around the side of the stagecoach. Without warning he went careening forward and down and then stopped moving. Anna had just enough time to be puzzled by that when she heard a startlingly loud scuffle of boots against loose stones from close by.

When she turned and lifted her head she saw one of Buford's men getting to his feet after scrambling up the slope to the ridge. "Fuck." Even as that word slipped out of her she was trying to roll over on the ground to free up her rifle and brace it properly for the shot she would need to take the man down before he could get a shot off at her.

The alarming thought struck her as she was starting to roll, as the man was levelling his own weapon. She didn't have enough time.

And then from out of nowhere a mottled, shaggy blur struck the man, all snapping teeth and snarling fury. The man gave a yelp and a cry as those sharp teeth found cloth and then skin beneath and latched on tightly. He started to curse hotly and raised the gun like a club to strike at Plugger, who had seized hold of the bandit by one wrist and was yanking furiously at him to pull him right off his feet.

Anna braced, aimed, and fired. The shot slammed into the man's chest and threw him down to the ground. Plugger released his frenzied grip and let him fall.

"Good boy," she panted gratefully, almost breathless in her relief, before she turned her gaze down. Her heart just about stopped in her chest.

Buford was there, standing out in the open in front of the stagecoach, with his gun raised and pointed directly at her head, his finger poised to squeeze the trigger.

The shot was almost deafening.

* * *

Albert could hardly breathe. He scarcely dared to. Even as the gun fired and the bullet left the barrel he didn't dare to take that breath because what if he had missed? What if the other man got off a shot first?

_What if, what if, what if_.

And then, as he watched, the back of Buford's jacket started to darken, a blossoming wet stain spreading outward from the hole that had been punched neatly through its centre, between his shoulder blades. As he watched Albert saw the man stumble, stagger, and drop his gun. It hit the ground with a dull thump, and then Buford's knees followed suit. In the moments before the man buckled all the way down to the ground he turned to look back over one shoulder and their eyes met.

Albert held his gaze. "You missed."

And then Buford toppled over onto his side.

Albert dropped his head back down to the ground, wincing when his skull thudded against compact dirt. "Ow," he mumbled again, and then let out a low, long groan. He still had his pistol gripped in his hand but that too had dropped. It had been exhausting to hold it up as long as he had.

"Albert!" There was the sound of running feet. "_Albert_!" And then Anna was there, dropping down beside him and touching a hand to his chest.

"_Ow_."

"Oh my God, Albert." Anna made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a shuddering sigh, and when he opened his eyes to look up at her he could see the relief written all over her beautiful face. "Are you okay?"

"Nope." He had to bite back another groan. "Got shot."

Anna laughed but it wasn't at his expense. "Yeah," she said, "I can see that." And then she sobered completely. "God, Albert, I was so scared. I thought—"

"Yeah." Albert winced and grimaced as she moved to help him sit up. "Yeah, me too," he managed to say past gritted teeth. He turned his head to look at her.

She held his gaze and smiled at him, tipping her head softly to one side to indicate the dead man not far away. "Good shot, Sheepboy."

Albert actually managed to smile back at her, saying as he did so, "I have a good teacher."

She touched her hand briefly, lightly, to the side of his face, where he knew he was going to be sporting a pretty nasty bruise for a while, and said nothing. She just smiled.

Anna Stark really was the most gorgeous woman in the world. Hands down.

"Come on," she said to him then, and shifted her own weight to stand, obviously intending to help him do the same. "Let's get you to Doc' Harper."

"Oh, no," he said, even as he did his best to help Anna help him stand. "He'll probably want to chop my arm off or something. No way in he—ow, _ow_."

With a laugh and a roll of her eyes Anna wrapped an arm around his back and got him moving back towards the horses. "I'll protect you," she said. "How about that?"

Albert met her gaze and paused before he smiled and nodded. Because of course she would. Didn't she always?


End file.
